


Snake Eyes

by almy9306



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, M/M, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 13:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19063384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almy9306/pseuds/almy9306
Summary: Aziraphale has a little bit of an obsession with Crowley's eyes.





	Snake Eyes

As they wandered back down the streets, Aziraphale took the time to appreciate the soft hum of the new world. It had been a while since the whole apocalypse thing - a few weeks at least - and he’s really settled in quite nicely. 

All in all, he’s quite pleased. Especially with how much time he and Crowley had been spending together recently. 

A sigh came from his partner, and Aziraphale looked over to see Crowley with his head tilted up at the stars. The reflection of the half moon glows in those dark glasses, strangely small.

“Careful,” Aziraphale said, giving his friend a gentle nudge. “You might walk into something.”

Crowley looked over at him with a grin. “I suppose so. Might be good, I need to sober up a little.”

Aziraphale hummed. “Well, you aren’t quite stumbling yet, my dear.” 

“Yet?” Crowley questioned. “What else is on the menu tonight?”

“Nothing special, but I do have a few bottles of rosé waiting for us,” Aziraphale answered. As they arrived at the book shop, he waved a hand over the look and the door swung open. “After you.”

“Don’t tell me… It was on special again?” Crowley entered into the shop, eyeing up some of the newer books as he walked through.

“Only $10 a bottle. And it’s a brand I like,” Aziraphale replied, following behind Crowley. “Before you start to insult it - remember that you are also the one who drinks those _horrid beers_.”

“Aw, come on, angel,” protested Crowley, making his way to the fridge. “You know I’m a sucker for craft beers.”

The angel scrunched up his nose in an expression of disgust. “That’s no excuse.”

Crowley just laughed. “Well, then, you’ll just have to accept that I dislike your cheap wine.”

“One day, I’ll meet a demon with actual, _proper_ taste buds. Finally, I will have a good drinking buddy,” Aziraphale said, gathering the glasses from the cupboard.

“Maybe so. But good luck finding a demon that knows how to use cologne. All of those undergrounders are living back in 2000 B.C.. And you remember how that smelt,” Crowley countered.

They both grimaced. 

With slightly off aim, Crowley poured the wine into the glasses. Aziraphale took a sip of his drink and licked his lips. 

“Delicious,” he praised and took another sip. 

His counterpart scoffed and took a large gulp from his own wine glass. “Can’t say I agree, but it’s drinkable.” 

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Aziraphale took note of Crowley. The demon was wearing a new suit, dark red with an intricate pattern lined into it in black thread. Around his wrists hung some unusual black bracelets, which had a few red beads on each. 

It must be some new fashion. Aziraphale hardly ever bothered with those kinds of things, only just keeping up enough that people wouldn’t give him (too many) weird looks. 

“Ugh,” Crowley grumbled, hand reaching up to take off his glasses. “I think I’ve broken these things again. The edges keep digging into my skull, it’s giving me a headache.”

The angel’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Crowley’s glowing yellow eyes. He would be the first to admit - he had a slight obsession with the demon’s eyes as of late. There wasn’t any discernible cause, just one day he had made eye contact with his friend, and a deep need to stare into them forever had jumped upon him. 

It was mesmerising, watching those strange slit pupils widening and thinning again as they adjusted to the light. The golden yellow contrast against the infinite black, the two colours mixed in the small flecks of rich brown in the iris. 

Whenever Crowley got particularly animated in his discussion, those pupils would widen slightly again. Aziraphale loved that. 

Remembering himself, Aziraphale leaned over and patted a hand on Crowley’s head, wiping away any pain. “There you go.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, “Thanks, angel. But I think you might have miracled away any traces of alcohol too.” At Aziraphale’s embarrassment, Crowley laughed. “That’s why they say no miracles when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t remember that class,” Aziraphale said. “But it would have been useful. Maybe I should inform Gabriel.”

“Nah,” Crowley replied, and took a long swig from the bottle. When he put the bottle down, he looked into Aziraphale’s eyes with a grin. “That’s a lesson between me and you. Until you find a new drinking buddy, of course.”

Trying his hardest not to swoon like a young human woman, Aziraphale averted his eyes. “If you don’t introduce me to the next demon you find that uses cologne, I’ll be forced to disown you, my friend.”

“That eager, are you? So keen to get rid of me?” Crowley questioned, taking another long gulp of wine. “Even with these pretty eyes of mine?”

Aziraphale stiffened. Could Crowley - no. No. He couldn’t. And if he _did_ know - _how, why, when_ \- No.

“Wow. I didn’t expect you to blush,” Crowley told him, with much too smug a smile. “I wasn’t even sure of it until I said it.”

“Well - uh - your eyes, they’re, um, quite unusual. You can’t blame me,” Aziraphale stuttered. He glanced over at Crowley, and quickly covered it up with another slurp of wine. He drank and drank and suddenly it was gone. 

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look up. Directly into Crowley’s eyes, which were far too close. Aziraphale felt dizzy - mostly due to the wine - and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Look at me, angel,” Crowley murmured, gently dragging his thumb across Aziraphale’s jaw. The cold beads on Crowley's bracelets pressed into the angel's skin.

“You’re so dramatic,” Aziraphale replied with a sigh. Slowly, he opened his eyes to peer at those glowing yellow orbs in front of him. A smirk was fixed on the demon’s face, and Aziraphale took a moment to appreciate how round Crowley’s pupils were looking. The pitch blackness practically swamped his whole eyes.

Letting out a soft exhale of air, Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley’s hand abruptly left his chin, and the demon stepped away to grab his drink again. After taking yet another long gulp, he announced, “You know, angel, your eyes glow when you're happy.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, not quite sure what to do with that.

“Yes. They glow; a nice, golden yellow... Just like mine.”


End file.
